Thunderstorm
by Lily Dragonquill
Summary: ~COMPLETE~ Young Frodo Baggins has to spend the night alone.


Finally a second English story ;)

This little story developed in one night when I was originally thinking about my German storys when suddenly I felt like writing English again. 

I hope you like it!

**Special Thank's** to **Firiel** for correcting and beta reading!! Thank you so much!!!

**Thunderstorm**  
by Lily Baggins

"Frodo? Wake up, Frodo-lad!"

He heard her soft voice, calling his name.  
Frodo blinked, unsure if he was still dreaming. Was this true? Could she really be here?

"Wake up, dear boy. Mama is here."

"Mama?" Frodo whispered, finally daring to open his eyes fully.

Primula stroked her fingers through her son's dark curls.   
"Yes, I'm here."

"Mama!" Frodo cried and let himself sink into his mother's loving arms, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. 

"Don't cry. I'm here." she whispered while hugging her son tightly. She rubbed his back soothingly, rocking to and fro and humming a soft tune.

Frodo nestled himself into her embrace still trembling slightly, but his sobs finally ceased.   
Primula lifted her son's chin so she could look into his bright blue eyes, still glittering with tears. She wiped them away and smiled at him.  


"You were very brave, you know?"

He looked up in surprise, but shook his head. "I was not", he snivelled and looked at her with a sombre expression.

_~flashback~_

"We'll be back in the morning. Go to sleep now."

Primula was sitting on the side of her son's bed, tucking the blanket about him.

"But why can't I come to Uncle Saradoc's birthday party too?" he persisted. 

"You were at the party in the afternoon," Primula told him. 

"Then let me come to Brandy Hall. Let me come with you," he pleaded.

Primula could see the stubbornness in his eyes and knew he wouldn't give in. She laughed inwardly. Did he really think he could outdo his mother's stubbornness?

"No, Frodo. There will be so many people making noise, you won't find any sleep in the chambers of Brandy Hall."

"I won't find any sleep here either", Frodo told her.

"Yes, you will. Just close your eyes and think of something beautiful. You're old enough to stay at home alone. Besides, your dad and I will be back again, when you awake. Just be a good lad now and go to sleep."

"But mama", Frodo insisted.

"Frodo, no!"

He knew from the tone of her voice that he was beaten. He moaned and looked at her sulkily.

"Good night", she said and kissed his brow. 

Frodo sighed, as the door to his room closed behind his mother.   
Why couldn't he be at his uncle's birthday party too?  
He wasn't too young, was he? He was eight and could look after himself very well at a birthday party at Brandy Hall. 

A birthday party. They would serve lots of delicious cakes, biscuits and sandwiches as they had done in the afternoon. The thought of the food he got earlier that day made his mouth water. Suddenly he felt very hungry and decided to get up and see if he could find anything tasty in the kitchen.

He trotted into the kitchen and searched through every cupboard and drawer until he found some biscuits which his mother had baked the day before. He nibbled dissatisfied. The cookie wasn't even half as tasty as the candies he had at the party. 

He planted himself on a chair and stared into nothingness, his chin cupped in his hands. It was very quiet in the hole, almost unfamiliar, although there never really was much noise in that cosy hobbithole near Buckleburry. 

Brandy Hall wasn't very far. Only about half an hour's walk. Should he go there and just show up at the party too? He instantly abandoned the thought. His mother would be very angry and so would his dad. Maybe even Uncle Saradoc and all the other folk would be angry with him too. He shivered unconsciously at the thought of so many people being cross with him.  
No, it would be better if he stayed at home. 

He sighed and tried to suppress a yawn. Being all alone at home wasn't as much fun as he thought it would be, especially with the knowledge that his parents were at Saradoc's birthday party and he was not. 

He decided to go to bed nevertheless. Maybe he could still find some sleep. He hopped from the chair and walked back into his room where he let himself sink into the soft pillows of his bed. Frodo threw a quick glance out of the small round window, but could see nothing except a dark bluish sky.

Huddling under the blanket Frodo closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to close its arms about him. Before long sweet dreams were engulfing him, leaving the child to smile in his sleep.

Frodo woke when a sudden crack of thunder disturbed his peace. Before he could even think another flash of lightning could be seen. Frodo had just enough time to cover his ears with his hands before the thunderbolts could terrify his not yet fully awoken senses.

Frodo looked about startled. What happened? Where had all the beautiful images of a picnic near the river gone?

"Mama!" he cried, before remembering that his parents weren't at home. 

Rain was pouring hard against the little window in his room. Nothing could be seen of the dark blue sky anymore. Now there were big black clouds, moving menacingly over hills and bending trees.

Frodo had his nose pressed against the window, staring at the dark clouds in fearful admiration, when yet another lightning bolt lit up the night.  
The young hobbit flinched back with a shriek. Again he covered his ears at the following thunder. 

"Mama", he whispered again, although he knew she wasn't here. 

He hated thunderstorms and feared them. He had spent many nights in his parents' bed, huddling close to his mother or father in order to flee the dreadful noises.  
But now his parents weren't here. He was alone, with no one but himself in the house. 

Tears were streaming down his cheek because of his frightened state. His heart was pounding fast while uncontrollable sobs made him shake. He grabbed his pillow and hid away under the blanket.

Fearfully he listened to the horrifying sounds outside. Why couldn't his parents be here? Why did they have to go to Saradoc's party? Why hadn't they taken him with them?  
He remembered his mother's words. Too much noise, she had said. Certainly it couldn't be any louder at the party than it was here and surely _those_ noises weren't as ghastly as the cracks of thunder.   
So why was he at home and not at Brandy Hall?

He started crying anew, when he thought about folk having fun at the party, not heeding the stormy weather. Was his mother thinking about him? Most likely she was. But of her son sleeping peacefully - certainly not sitting under his blanket frightened to death. 

There was no need to be afraid, was there? Of course not. So why did he still fear thunderstorms? Well, there were sudden flashes of lightning and loud, cracking thunders and howling wind, but was that reason enough to sit quavering in bed hoping for it to pass?

Hesitantly he peered out under his blanket. For the moment neither thunder nor lightning disturbed the night. Only rain was coming down in buckets, striking at the window. 

Frodo got to his feet half-heartedly, wiping away the tears. He looked about sheepishly. The house was quiet; nothing could be heard except the sound of the pouring rain. Most likely the storm was already over. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

It would be best to go to bed again, ignoring the rain and his heart that was still beating rapidly.  
Quickly he plumped up the pillow. He was about to climb into his bed again, when a branch was thrown at the window, bursting the glass in pieces. 

Frodo jumped back with a cry, stumbled and fell on the floor, with his back against the wall. His former dread returned and mingled with new fear. He was too shocked to even move.  
Fresh tears were streaming down his cheeks. He cried frantically for his mother.

Not too far away another hobbit was crying, trying desperately to get home, but the weather didn't allow her to. Primula was weeping bitterly in her husband's arms. Saradoc had interrupted the party and now all his guests were celebrating in the many chambers of Brandy Hall. All but Primula und Drogo, who stood by the window, gazing anxiously into the dark, stormy night outside.

But of all this Frodo knew nothing. He crouched in the corner of his own dark room, arms wrapped around his legs, listening anxiously to the dreadful howling of the wind. It came blowing with a cold breeze from the now broken window. Even rain now found its way into the hobbit's bedroom. Frodo's eyes were wide with fear, while hot tears were streaming down his cheeks. Still he was quivering violently, unable to get up again.

His eyes were stinging. He rubbed them with the back of his hand, when suddenly he saw fumes coming in from the small window. Finally he got to his feet again and found his legs had turned to jelly. Carefully he stepped closer to his bed where the branch was now lying. There was a smell of burning in the air. He felt a tickle in his throat and started to cough. Frodo's eyes stung even more as he stepped closer still. 

At last he couldn't bear it any longer and ran out of his room.

"Fire! The hole is on fire!" he thought desperately.

Before he knew what he was doing he ran hurriedly outside where the wind seemed to howl even louder and rain was pouring down with a constant patter. The night was lit up by burning flames. The tree which was standing next to the window of his room was ablaze.

Frodo was terrified. He was shaking all over, eyes wide with fear.   
As he breathed in the smoke he started to cough hoarsely. He flinched and moved back. His tears mingled with the raindrops which were streaming down his face.  
He needed his mother and he needed her now.

Without realizing what he was doing he dashed off into the night, leaving his home behind, heading for Brandy Hall.   
A cold wind was blowing, driving many a raindrop into his face. Frodo shivered with cold, but kept running. Within seconds he was soaked through, but didn't care.

A sudden lightning and the following rumbling thunder made him wince. Frodo squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. He opened them only now and again to make sure he was on the right road. His breathing was fast and his heart was pounding as if it was about to burst, but he kept running. 

Tears were streaming down his cheeks while he sobbed miserably. All he could think about was his mother. Her gentle arms, her soothing voice. 

In his mind's eye he could still see the tree on fire and the branch hitting the window. The thought of the glass bursting sent shivers through his spine.  
He stopped abruptly, stared into the night with unseeing eyes.  
He would have been killed, had he been lying in his bed at the time.

Gripped by the sudden fear of death he felt as if he was about to choke. Desperately he gasped for breath and started to cough again for his throat still hurt because of the smoke. A nauseous feeling overcame him. He could feel the rough claws of fear seizing his heart.

Killed by a branch during a thunderstorm. Or maybe he would have died because of the fire.

The thoughts circled in his mind. He knew he was trembling violently but it didn't matter. From far away he could hear the wind howling and it seemed to laugh at him. Suddenly the world started to spin. Frodo felt his legs giving way and fell to the ground. A thunder rumbled in the night, but Frodo knew no more. 

When the rain finally eased a little no one could stop Primula from taking her cloak and going out into the storm. She had to get back to her son who was most likely frightened to death, for she knew how much he feared thunderstorms. Drogo went with her.

With a quick farewell they left Brandy Hall, heading for their home near Buckleburry. They hadn't gone far, when they suddenly saw someone in front of them falling to the ground. Primula didn't have to see the hobbit's face to know that it was her son. 

"Frodo!" she cried frantically and dashed towards his unconscious form. 

She put off her cloak and wrapped it about Frodo's cold body. Worriedly she looked at her husband who was picking up their son so he could carry him back to Brandy Hall. 

Why did he run away? Was it only the thunderstorm or had anything happened while he was at home alone? Why wasn't she there to stop him from running blindly into the storm? Or was it she he had come to see? Did he run all the way from their home to Brandy Hall just to be with her? Something must have happened otherwise he wouldn't have been that foolish. 

Overwhelmed with guilt Primula covered her face with her hands and wept. Drogo had gone back home to see what had frightened the young hobbit.   
When he returned he told her about the burnt down tree and the branch which had broken the window in Frodo's room. The hobbithole itself had been spared from the fire.  
Primula bitterly reproached herself for not being there to protect and comfort her son, but Drogo told her that it wasn't her fault and she knew he was right.   
Still she was glad that nothing happened to Frodo who just seemed to be exhausted.

_~~~~end of flashback~~~~_

"Brandy Hall?" Frodo asked amazed, when his mother told him how they found him seven hours ago. 

He looked about in surprise. He was indeed not in his own room, but in one of the guest chambers of Brandy Hall. 

"Then it was no dream at all that I almost got killed?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

Primula shook her head. Frodo shuddered and Primula quickly put an arm around his shoulder so that his head sank to her lap. He grabbed one of her hands and held it tightly as he felt new tears welling up. 

"Hush now", she said softly, whilst stroking his cheeks. "It's over. No such thing will ever happen again. I'm here, don't be afraid anymore."

Afraid? He was not afraid but relieved, although he had thought the part with the branch breaking his window and the fire had just been a nightmare after he had gone to bed again.  
But still

"What could possibly be brave in what I've done, Mama?" he asked, watching her closely.

Primula was taken aback by his question and looked at him stunned, searching feverishly for an answer.

"I was not, was I?" He looked at her with an unsteady smile on his face. 

"Well," she said finally, "It was good to get yourself out of your room and away from the fumes. But dashing away into the stormy night and running until you fainted with exhaustion" she trailed off.

"In fact", she began again in a very serious tone, but failing to hide her smile, "In that matter you were foolish, silly, unwise, harebrained and"

Frodo groaned and rolled his eyes back.

"Yes you were!" Primula told him and pinched him playfully. "I was worried sick about you!"

"I'm sorry", Frodo whispered and looked at her with eyes full of concern and pleading, whilst simultaneously trying to avoid being pinched.

Primula smiled and shook her head. Frodo smiled too.   
All at once he yelped. His mother laughed and continued tickling him. Frodo giggled uncontrollably.

When she finally stopped he looked at her happily, his eyes shining.  
"I'm glad you're back with me", he whispered and hugged her tightly.   
"So am I, my dear. So am I."

_  
~THE END~_


End file.
